Editorial Reviews for Nominees
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 Score: 94/100 (9.4 out of 10)
Imagine a world in which humanity is lost—where humans can be recycled. Imagine a world wrecked and ruined by air pollution, so much so that it has created a weather phenomenon known as "the Haze" that blots out the sun for weeks at a time, drapes entire cities in a chemical fog, and turns the sky a sickly amber hue. The Haze corrodes metal, burns skin, and warps electronics—drifting without warning, suffocating entire communities, and swallowing landmarks whole. No birds fly through it. No satellites see beneath it. It’s a creeping, sentient veil of man’s own making, a consequence so thick and toxic it’s come to be feared like a living entity. Under its cover, memory fades, machines glitch, and people vanish—leaving behind only static, soot, and silence. Imagine living in a dome where even the stars in the sky are artificial—pixelated constellations projected on a curved ceiling to keep the illusion of wonder alive. Children point up at patterns that never change, believing in a cosmos long since smothered. Outside the dome, the Haze coils like a predator, pressing against the glass with chemical hunger, testing for weakness. Inside, air is rationed, sky is coded, and seasons are nothing more than digital simulations. People learn to celebrate the artificial sunrise, to pretend the wind is real, to trust the filtered smiles of the Department of Clarity when they say everything is fine. But some remember—the scent of real rain, the glint of genuine starlight, the sound of birdsong now stored only in archives. And among them, whispers spread like contraband: of a time before the domes, before the Haze, before the lie. Because somewhere in the smothered world, the truth still flickers. Somewhere beyond the amber fog and dying machines, the stars may still be burning. Hidden. Waiting. Imagine a world dominated by domes and controlled by unscrupulous, manipulative figures like Worthington—essentially a cult leader who smiles for the cameras while programming the minds of millions. In this world, leaders are not elected but engineered, sculpted from childhood to charm, deceive, and obey. Their goal isn’t power for power’s sake—it’s control through comfort, sedation through spectacle. There are also organizations like LTE, a radical extremist group that seems to view humans as expendable and "no longer valuable," HERA (the authoritarian health organization), and corporations like Tommas Corporation, which is said to have polluted the water supply and turned it intermittedly gray. That's the world of There Are No Stars Here by J.S. Thompson, who (apparently) actually had a career in politics on top of years of political activism. It really shows in this book, especially with characters like Senator Aiesha and Manuel's venture into politics on behalf of District 1. But this book isn't all about those with power or those vying/campaigning for it. It's a book about people on the ground. Civilians. Citizens. Mothers like Solanis Tailor, arguably the central protagonist of the book, as she seeks a better life and world for her daughter, Gabby. We say "arguably the central protagonist" because this is really a book with a huge, sprawling ensemble cast of characters. It's one of those. And it's also one of those books with a huge, sprawling plot with huge, sprawling world. It's one of those too—one of those books that obsesses over the intricacies of the world and its world-building. That's ambitious, admirable, and all, but... if you've read any of our previous reviews about books with a lot of world-building, we consistently express the sentiment that too much is just too much. Excessive world-building can distract from the characters and the plot. It should enhance and complement rather than distract. You could argue that the world-building in this book facilitates the conflicts and struggles that the characters are going through, but... we honestly felt confused and overwhelmed. You could make the argument that this is the point: that this book is supposed to feel overwhelming and oppressive. This is what many of the characters are feeling, after all. You could argue that the world-building does complement the arcs of some (if not all) of the major characters. For example, Manuel's story centers around his separation from his mother, who becomes trapped behind "the York Line" in the breakaway Free Republic of South Texas (FROST). Furthermore, he endures a quest for survival and meaning after a devastating earthquake kills his father. Walter and Solanis discuss how they'll use Sirius (a star) near Orion's Belt (for much of the year) to connect with each other when separated by space ("when you look up, I'll look up too"), something that's made painfully ironic by the fact that the stars and constellations in the dome sky are artificial. But all of that kind of gets lost in the massive avalanche of information we're bombarded with. Furthermore, we're buried in a snow squall of characters and their many, many, many tangled relationships. Gosh, there are just too many characters and too much to keep track of. Let's just name a few whose names we wrote down in our notes: Chancellor Worthington Manuel Aiesha Solanis Greg (Solanis's brother, who is apparently mutated and dying for much of the book) Gabby (who we're pretty sure is Solanis's daughter) Walter (arguably the book's other main protagonist alongside Solanis and Manuel) Childre Katia Tatiana Luna Leonardo President Rosenbaum Seban Ronnie Diego Winston Heidi Salazar There are maybe 20-30+ named characters in this book. And so many of them fit the same roles. For example, you get a lot of offspring in this book whom their parents are trying to protect. That's admirable and all, but it's really hard to keep track of whose child is whose. Ugh... there were literally times in our notes when we wrote things like: “'Luna was in danger Who the heck is Luna?!" (Apparently, she was another little girl in the camp who needed persistent protection and saving) There is just too much happening in this book and too many characters. Because of that, this book feels so much longer than it is. It's dense. To top it off, it's exhausting. We were tired and exhausted by the time we finished this book, and we desperately wanted and needed to finish this book. It was like a full marathon. We would've much preferred a more focused approach with the scope of the book centered around Solaris and Walter or Manuel, not all of them intermittedly and all in the same book. The book shifts perspectives so many times, that it's really hard to like and get to know each character as an individual. Really, the world-building is supposed to be the star of the show. Again, it's one of those books. But let's not obsess over the negative stuff because this book does do some things right (or at least admirably). For example, the book tries really hard to provide little stories within this larger story, creating multiple motifs. Perhaps the biggest is the story about the monster and the phoenix. Monsters take advantage of people and destroy them. Phoenixes give people hope in their times of need and raise them up. This really explores the dichotomy between good and evil in this book, with good people like Solaris, Walter, and Manuel (phoenixes) doing their best to do the right thing while villains like Worthington take advantage of the desperate state of the world (monsters). There's also another motif that we referenced earlier—the one regarding Sirius, the star near Orion's Belt (for much of the year). Both Walter and Solaris look to it or try to find it in times of need, of course failing to find the real version of it in the dome. This is sort of cheesy, but sort of beautiful at the same time. There are also plants that are used as motifs, specifically the white/"albino" monstera and the evergreens. It's extremely ambitious, but it's also a bit much. This is the author's first novel, and you can tell they were really trying hard to make a big splash. You can also kind of tell they must have read a whole bunch of books about writing and world-building, then spent months (probably) plotting, listing, and diagraming each and every character and aspect of this world. This is one of those rare cases when we wish this was a series and not a standalone book like this. A series would've allowed more of this book and its characters to breathe. Instead, it seems smothered and suffocated, which is sort of poetic considering the Haze in this book. However, it seems like a lot of great ideas that just got mashed together haphazardly. Let's talk about one more positive aspect of this book: Worthington. Worthington is a worthy antagonist and villain in this book. Gosh, we wish the book would've just focused more on him and just let him cook. Worthington is a lot like Immortan Joe from Mad Max: Fury Road. He's this cult leader with a hysterically devoted following who will make sacrifices (usually valuable items) to him and contend to be one of his "virgins"--"Worthington's virgins." It seems like everyone in his vicinity wants to do everything they can to please and gain favor with him. He has become like a deity on Earth. They worship the ground he walks on. Oh, and here's another somewhat good thing we noticed about this book: how it explores the suppression of information and buried history/culture. Yes, there's this whole subplot about making some kind of chemical/medicine thing that can rewrite peoples' thoughts and erase their memories, making them more pliable and willing to do "what's needed" for the good of the utopia, but that's not what we're talking about. We're talking about the fact that written, digital, and oral history seems to exist in one way or another despite all efforts to suppress them. Some people remember the Bible and characters like Moses and Sampson, reminding the other characters. How is it possible for a book to do so much right and so much wrong at the same time? Read updates about its release on the author's website!
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 Score: 95/100 (9.5 out of 10)
David Bush is back, baby! And he's back with a vengeance! Animal Revenge is the best book by Bush since General Jack and the Battle of the Five Kingdoms, our 2023 Fiction Book of the Year Runner-Up! Animal Quest was ok but also seemed bloated and meandering. Animals Divided had an interesting premise, but the long history lesson at the end of it was more interesting and entertaining than the story itself. But Animal Revenge just hits differently. It's engaging from beginning to end—cover to cover. So what makes this book so good? Well, it's the characters. It's the dynamics. This series always had ambitious character dynamics from Miaow & Jack to Jonas & Big Bertha, but Cassius, Flavia, and the Emperor just hit differently for some reason. We think we know why they work as the book's core trio. It's because this book is so much more focused than any other book Bush has submitted so far. All of his other books were filled to the brim with characters. There was always so much happening and so much to keep track of, compounded by all the craziness happening in the setting and time-period (Black Death, Great Schism, etc.). In other words, because other books in the series had so many characters and because the other books were so convoluted, it was often difficult to get emotionally invested. It always seemed like the focus of the narrative wanted to take you elsewhere when you really just wanted to stay with the characters and get to know them as individuals. For example, in Animal Quest, Lazy Bones (the cow), Stig (the goat), Woolly-Bo (the sheep), Magnus & Marcus (dogs), and Per (a piglet) all seemed like window dressing. They really didn't need to be in the story for the story to happen. Yes, they added some flavor (as farm animals tend to do), but they also weren't necessary. However, in Animal Revenge, the main characters are interesting, engaging, fleshed out, and understandable. Let's just start with our favorite character in the book: Flavia, the Emperor's adopted daughter and the le eminence grise (power behind the throne) of the falling Roman Empire. Flavia is such an interesting character because she's neither purely evil nor purely good. She's a gray character—somewhere in between. She's multifaceted, three-dimensional, dynamic, and—most importantly—interesting to read about. Despite having some pull and authority, she's still in an extremely tough situation sandwiched between two extremely powerful, influential, and increasingly-unstable people (Cassius and the Emperor), trying desperately not to set off a powder keg that would lead to a civil war. All the while, there are these Brownlandian invaders (similar to the Goths, Visigoths, and Huns) threatening to take the seat of power from without; meanwhile, the pugnaces (representing the Praetorian Guard) are on the verge of rebellion and assassinating the increasingly-unpopular Emperor. You could even add the discontent lions who show up later. The future of Rome is so uncertain and troublesome, and—what do you know?—nothing means more to Flavia than Rome. She would do anything to save it and to secure its future, even tempting, manipulating, marrying, and breeding with her dad's budding arch-rival, Cassius, a legendary war hero (akin to Julius Caesar) and a molossus dog. Unlike Animals Divided, Animal Revenge does an excellent job at explaining why the dog breed is so important int he context of the story. The characters aren't just dogs for the sake of being dogs. Cassius isn't just a molossus for the sake of being a molossus—being a molossus is truly special in the context of history as well as in the story. These huge dogs (some 200 lbs.) of the ancient world were treasured and highly-valued by the ancient Greek and Romans. They were seen as excellent fighters and guardians—the best of the best. They're like the Spartans of the dog world! Unfortunately, purebreed molossus dogs have pretty much gone extinct, although their genes still exist in large dog breeds like Saint Bernards and mastiffs. We imagine that Alabais probably share some genes too since they fit closely with the huge, fighter-dog description of the molossus. Anyway, Flavia plans to create a dynastic union and breed with Cassius, ensuring that their children will not only have a claim to the Roman scepter, crown, and throne, but also that their children will be physically and genetically superior to all of their competitors. They will be bigger, stronger, and—presumably—smarter than anything coming out of the other Landias. It would save and preserve Rome in more ways than one. Flavia is intelligent and clever enough to realize this. And those are some of the best things about Flavia: her intellect and her cunning. She is like a chess player, always thinking several moves ahead. Perhaps it would be best to set the scene a bit to explain why Flavia would come up with a plan like this. Her step-dad, the Emperor, is losing it. Not only is he losing his power and influence to all of these other forces, he's also losing his mind. He hinges on the idea that only fear can keep him in power, saying that, "Rome is red. Power is red, nothing can break it. They want blood, we give them more and more blood." In other words, the Emperor—the villain of this book (think of him like Caligula or Nero)—wants to use violence in the form of war, the colliseum, and executions to keep his grip on Rome. However, Flavia constantly admonishes him that he needs the love and support of the people. Cassius has the love and support of the people, which makes him the biggest internal threat to the Emperor's authority (alongside the pugnaces who very clearly despise him). Cassius isn't just any war hero, he is the hero who did what some said couldn't be done—what many other generals and soldiers failed to do: defeat and capture Jackat, a nigh-mythological enemy descended from Miaow, the legendary cat from General Jack and the Battle of the Five Kingdoms. Jackat actually becomes like a Force Ghost throughout the book, speaking to Cassius and causing him headaches. Remember when we said that Cassius is also becoming increasingly-unstable like the Emperor? Well, we weren't kidding. He hears voices in his head. But unlike the Emperor and unlike Flavia, Cassius is actually, genuinely a good person. However, Flavia isn't about doing good or doing the right thing, she's about doing the practical thing—about doing what's best for Rome. Flavia is a pragmatic person. She does what she needs to do to get from Point A to Point B, even if it means poisoning Maximus, Cassius's partially-blind and partially-paralyzed father-figure. Why would she do such a terrible thing? Well, because Maximus living and needing constant care and attention is the reason why Cassius refuses to move into the palace to live with Flavia. But Flavia doesn't just have Maximus poisoned and moves on with a clear conscience. It clearly bothers her. She tries to justify it by looking at the bigger picture. She tries to convince herself that Maximus was in very poor health and would've died soon after anyway. We see glimpses of Flavia's feelings of regret and remorse throughout the book. It seems like she's constantly trying to convince the Emperor to be less violent, to show some compassion and remorse, to spare Cassius (for example), and to limit or stop the bloodshed. Yes, there are probably more pragmatic reasons why she does this, such as preventing a civil war or a coupe, but you can also tell that Flavia has a heart. It might not be as big, shiny, and beautiful as Cassius's heart, but it is significantly bigger, shiner, and more beautiful than the Emperor's. Is she the lesser of two evils? Yes. But she also has the potential to be the solution and even the outright heroine of the story if only circumstances were different. Think about it: Flavia is step-daughter of an evil, sadistic tyrant who makes brash and irrational decisions. There's even a brief reference that her parents met a grim fate. Imagine growing up and living under someone like that. How would you expect that person to turn out good or even ok? Another example of Flavia having a heart is how she responds to the violence and slaughter of humans and animals in the coliseum. Yes, she claps but only to appease the Emperor and because the crowd is doing it. The look on her face is one of disapproval and even remorse. She looks and turns away from the bloodshed when she can. It clearly bothers her. If she were purely evil or as sadistic as her step-father, she would not react to violence this way. There's a scene in which the crazed Emperor bathes himself in sheep blood, and Flavia is absolutely flabbergasted by the waste of life. She's speechless. There's another scene in which she refuses to talk to her dad for some time because his cronies try to kill Cassius, a person she has gained respect and affection for. Flavia goes from being a manipulator and schemer to becoming Cassius's truest believer, saying, "Surely he will come" until her last breath. It's incredibly sad and tragic, actually, but also very powerful. Flavia ends up associating with and living with people whom the Emperor had persecuted and looked down on. It's an incredible, remarkable arc—one of the best in the contest so far. And let's just say that Cassius is a pretty awesome character too. Cassius is a badass. In one scene, he fights like 200 lions! Yes, he passes out and enters a death-like state because of a performance enhancing substance, but it's still pretty cool! He's sort of like Maximus from Gladiator in the sense that he gains favor from the masses that makes the Emperor jealous. Hey, we also learned a lot from this book. Did you know that there was a time in Rome in which 23 of 26 emperors were murdered, usually by their own Praetorian Guard? Wow, that's crazy! The writing is also eloquent, as you would expect from a David Bush book. The man just has a knack with words! We get the passage: "The breath that clouds the mirror clears, and the reflection is bright again. But the mirror is tarnished at last by breath upon breath until it rusts." We also get the passage: "So often reform is nothing but an attempt to transmogrify others into what the reformers are themselves, so content are they with their own perfected imperfections. And then, reformers are so full of hatred. They abhor everyone who disagrees with them, and they even come to loathe the people who don’t want to be reformed.” It's interesting to note that Flavia, who was a somewhat villainous character up to this point, is called a "reformer" in this section. There are actually some great analogies and metaphors used in this book, particularly as it pertains to the relationship between Flavia and the Emperor. Flavia is compared to a "glove" while the Emperor is compared to a "hand." We are told: "Flavia and her father are made for each other. He is the cart rolling downhill, and she has the hard job of being the brakes to prevent him smashing himself to pieces at the bottom." What's extra interesting about this is that Livia, Cassius's love-interest and a victim in all this, actually says, "Poor Flavia." So, when Livia and Flavia finally meet, with the fates of Livia and her family hanging in the balance, it's particularly meaningful. Now, to be perfectly honest, we would've preferred if Livia weren't in this book. We were really adamant about the Flavia-Cassius paring. Yes, we know it would be very political and gained through some degree of manipulation and homicide (of Maximus), but it would be cool. Check it out on Amazon!  Nurse Florence, What Are Some Healthy Habits? by Michael Dow is the best book in the Nurse Florence series yet!
While this has been a children's book series with its fair share of problems, especially the excessive complexity of the writing, issues with character motivation, awkward framing, and less than optimal illustrations (at times), this book stands out as an improvement in one key regard: the illustrations. This is arguably the best illustrated book in the series, largely owed to the efforts of the illustrator, Alexa Arostegui. The characters look distinct, colorful, and detailed. The backgrounds are also multi-layered with good depth perception (for the most part), something that was sometimes missing from other books in the series. One thing about the illustrations that might be considered an issue is that Nurse Florence herself (as portrayed in this book) looks a little disproportionate. She's a big, muscular lady. She kind of reminded us of Raquel Rodriguez from WWE or Abby from The Last of Us Part 2 (video game). However, the one issue with that is her head: it's disproportionately small, in our opinion. She almost looks like a reverse-caricature, instead of having a big head and small body, she has a small head and a big body. On page 33, her head is literally tiny compared to the rest of her. We think she's supposed to be portrayed as muscular, fit, and healthy, which is cool. This Nurse Florence (there's a different one in each book) clearly puts a lot of effort into her body. We see that in scenes in which she's lunging, stretching, and flexing. Fitness is a huge part of her life, which makes her a good example for kids and adults alike. The other characters in this book are some of the best illustrated characters in the series. Each one is diverse (racially and ethically) and distinct. Our favorite illustration in this whole book is just seeing the three girls laughing together. It's so nice to see genuine human emotion and expression properly presented in this series. Something good about this book is that it applies to everyone, not just a niche group of people with one condition. Everyone can make an effort to live a healthier life. Everyone can learn (or be reminded) of some way to live healthier. This includes predictable things like sleeping regularly, eating breakfast, and exercising. However, there are more unorthodox (yet effective) recommendations like practicing mindfulness. We also love how the narrative of this book is open to alternatives and other options. For example, it acknowledges that some people don't have big appetites during breakfast time, so the book invites readers to consider smaller snacks like fruits and granola bars. The book also acknowledges that not everyone enjoys exercising or the same forms of exercise, but there are fun things like dance, sports, and tai chi that could help fill the gap. Gosh, we really wish that the author could work with a co-writer who could help them craft the writing in these books in a more organic and natural way. It often seems contrived and unnatural. Once again, the characters seem to lack adequate motivation. Like, why would they just randomly want to learn about healthy habits? It may have been better if there were an inciting incident like someone getting over illness or the characters noticing how fit and healthy Nurse Florence is (which would've worked in this book considering how buff and jacked she is). All of these books tend to be framed and presented oddly. Like, we're almost always introduced to Jean, Sonia, and Condi who find themselves doing something for some reason. There's rarely a story behind why they're doing it or why they ask Nurse Florence about certain things, they just do it because the book requires it. They're written in this really stilted way. Dow already found a better illustrator, could he maybe find a ghost writer or a co-writer who can tidy this up? Could you image how much better this book could be if the characters were doing something more dynamic than sitting in one place talking about what they should do? However, we applaud the improvements in this book. Check it out on Lulu!  Score: 94/100 (9.4 out of 10)
We LOVED Gigglet Goes to School by Amber Berkowitz! We didn't love it because it was exceptional or extraordinary. We didn't love it because the illustrations were mindblowing or because the message knocked us out of our seats. No. We loved this book because it was simple, sweet, and adorable; and sometimes that's what you need! We really needed this book. We've read so many dark, depressing, and even dull books that really got our moods down. We've read all of these big, colorful books trying to say these big, colorful things. It becomes a bit much after awhile. Well, Gigglet Goes to School isn't like that. It's a book about an adorable, lovable little pig named Gigglet going to school and living her life with love and laughter. Something needs to be said about that. Gigglet is an anthropomorphic little pig with no special powers, no big destiny, and nothing really huge to do in her day (in the grand scope of things). She isn't trying to save the world. She isn't trying to change or shake the world. We're literally told that she goes to school to "learn and play." She's just trying to live her life with cheer and happiness in her heart. And that just brought a smile to our faces! Pepa, eat your heart out. There's a new cute, girly piglet in town! We join Gigglet as she awakens beside her mother, then heads off to school. She write, she paints, she dances, she eats, and she naps—all the things that Outstanding Creator Awards nominees and winners love to do! Well, that and overconsume caffeine (which Gibblet refrains from doing). She also plays and picks flowers on the way home from school. In a sense, she exemplifies what it means to "stop and smell the roses." So many of us—kids and adults alike—live like clockwork. We find ourselves on hamster wheels, believing that we're working toward something—surging toward a goal without appreciating the small steps, accomplishments, and blessings in between. The illustrations are bright, colorful, and eye-catching. They're sure to appeal to children. The text is big and short, meaning that this is a really easy book to read with your kids at circle time or before bed! Another great thing about this book is how it encourages kids to notice and practice their phonetic pronunciations of like-sounding words. For example, we get: Scribble & Squiggle Crunch & Munch Swish & Swash Nestle & Nuzzle Tumble & Stumble Snuggle & Cuddle All of these words are short and simple—easily comprehensible by children. Furthermore, the pictures help to illustrate what each of these words means. This book also champions the beautiful relationship between a mother and her child. Yes, the child is independent from her mom for much of the day, but she begins and ends her day with Mama Pig. There's clearly safety, security, and trust there. And, of course, Gigglet and Mama Pig are all smiles! Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 95+/100 (9.5+ out of 10)
Hello, Japan! is another excellent children's book by Ekaterina Otiko! It is adorable, entertaining, and—most of all—educational, just like the previous installment in the Sophie & Stephie Traveling Sisters series that we read (and fell in love with), Hello, England! First of all, it's so nice to see all of these cute, adorable characters again. Sophie and Stephie lead the cast, two adventurous, spunky, curious sisters from California. There's also Globik, a "magical globe," Spots & Sparkles (two rambunctious pups), a turtle, and an incredible intelligent parrot who teaches the other characters (along with the readers) about the different places they visit. Along the way they meet other friends like Yoshi, whose family serves as a bit of a host and a guide, feeding, housing, and including the sisters in different activities like a traditional Japanese theatrical performance (kabuki) and showing them the national sport, sumo. Oh, and Yoshi's Shiba dog also joins the party! This book is incredibly rich and ambitious, sharing a lot of great trivia, Easter Eggs, vocabulary, and even pronunciation guides for the vocabulary. We were incredibly impressed! It also teaches readers quite a bit about Japanese culture. Perhaps the most interesting thing in this book is how the characters/author explain what different colors mean in Japanese culture. For example, red is said to ward off evil spirits (which explains why it's on different shrines), and orange symbolizes love and happiness. We also get to see and explore a lot of the different locations in Japan, not just Tokyo! There's Kyoto, the capital for 1,000 years, Fukuoka, where the big sumo wrestling competitions take place, and Osaka, Yoshi's hometown and location of one of Japan's most famous and picturesque castles. And that's not all! The characters visit Mount Fuji, Snow Monkey Park, and more! There's so much to see and learn in this book! Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 94/100 (9.4 out of 10)
Two girls have been found murdered—cut in half with a chainsaw—in Bloodrun, Alaska. The gruesome murders rattle the community and prompt a full-blown investigation and manhunt by the Bloodrun Borough Police Department and even the FBI. Can they find and stop the perpetrator before he can kill again? Something in the Blood by H.H. Mika is a suspenseful thriller and detective/murder mystery interwoven with elements of psychological horror and cultural folklore. The book follows Detective Terry Volker and his partner and protege, Eddie, as they hunt down this sadistic and brutal killer. The clock is constantly ticking, the suspects are numerous, and the weight and risk of another tragedy hangs in the air. Something we really appreciated about this book is how it explores the psychology of violent criminals and serial-killers. We hate to admit it, but it's fascinating, isn't it? Why do terrible people do such terrible things to other people? How could they? Do they have no conscience? Do they not understand pain and suffering? Do they have no moral compass? No sense of right or wrong? This book explores the idea that things aren't always as they seem. The people we think are the perpetrators—based on their bizarre personalities and outward appearances—could end up being the victims (or innocent). Evil doesn't always show its face, and it isn't always obvious. In fact, the killer (for much of the book) is often referred to as a "Masked Figure" or a "Shadow"--almost like an abstract, metaphysical entity that transcends reality. Heck, one of the characters even starts referring to the murderer as a "Werewolf"--some monster that has lost its humanity. Having read a lot of cheesy werewolf literature lately, this got a chuckle out of us. But, anyway, getting back to the point... There are so many possible suspects and red herrings in this book. Practically all of them are screwed up and twisted in one way or another. We learn about an unsettling character named Joshua who has been twisted since his younger years, drawing pictures that glamorize and celebrate extreme violence, sadism, and dismemberment. We even learn that his schools wanted him gone because he would "hurt" and indecently expose the other children, especially the girls. We learn that he would hurt animals if given the chance. Adding credence to his suspect profile, he seems to idolize large masked wrestlers and slasher characters like Jason Vorhees and Michael Myers. We learn about a bizarre and twisted French artist named Emille Lepus who was seen with the first murder victim a week before her death. Lepus is the primary suspect for a large portion of this book. He is into some really creepy stuff and, similar to Joshua, loves portraying the human body in troubling ways (in his art). We learn from an interview he did that he's actually fascinated by the concept of removing damaged, injured, or broken human limbs and parts and replacing them with new ones like cybernetics. He loves to fix things and even worked as a building safety inspector for that reason. What's sort of interesting about this is that it suggests almost a positive, therapeutic angle to his twisted psyche—almost like he wants to help people. Well, the path to destruction is littered with good intentions. Lepus also seems to have a compound with a bunch of people including several young women in it including Audrey Willard, who becomes important because her unintended death causes a PR nightmare for the police department, and Holly—Lepus's supposed girlfriend. There's also Talon, who we'll get to. Lepus's disturbing, cult-like compound is one of the highlights of the book. In fact, it probably is the highlight of the book. It's like mixing Sander Cohen (the crazy, homocidal artist from Bioshock) with David Koresh. His home is littered with "art" that resembles medieval torture devices as well as hidden/secret rooms and passages that are either empty or lead to nowhere. We also learn about Talon, one of Lepus's housemates, who we are warned by one of the other housemates might have a sadistic personality that he keeps tucked away and hidden. We're actually told that Talon has hit and possibly even tortured the dogs in the house. Add to this the fact that he looks like Eminem (and probably Stan from the "Stan" music video), and you have the recipe for shady dude. In one of the best passages of the book, Eddie evokes Jane Goodall's research and says: "One claimed that psychos aren’t born, they’re made—y’know, products of their environment; family, school, work, society—whatever. They’re not even all killers. Lots of them just become CEOs and athletes or religious leaders, yada-yada." He goes on to say that Goodall found this in researching chimps. What this tells us is that there's evil in us and all around us, but it doesn't always show itself. Sometimes, it is suppressed. Sometimes, it is outshone by the good. Sometimes, it's defeated outright. But every now and then, evil will show its face, and the good have to stand up to it. This book also has an interesting cultural/supernatural angle to it. There are references to apocalyptic Bible verses, which is pretty standard for this type of book. But there are also discussions of Inuit spiritual practices and shamanism. We get references to Igaluk, the Inuit moon deity, and shamans who are referred to as "Angatuik." Oh, yeah, there's also this whole discussion about whether or not it's right to kill in life-or-death situations. Interestingly, this is especially explored in a scene in which a big wolf shows up as one of the characters is having a heart attack. As expected, the wolf is a motif throughout the book. Hannah keeps demanding that they just shoot the wolf, but Terry advises against it, considering it unnecessary. There's this really weird and somewhat annoying tension between Hannah and Terry throughout the book. Hannah really seemed superfluous most of the time, but it is what it is. There is this somewhat interesting and somewhat poetic scene in which the characters try making their own roast beef for the first time, which doesn't go as planned and leads to bland-tasting roast beef. What makes this poetic? Well, in a book about stopping a man from dismembering bodies, these characters are experimenting with curing and slicing up meat. We wish that this book didn't meander so much. We also wish the ending wasn't so flat. There was so much build. The ending warranted more. But all in all, this was a good book. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 94+/100 (9.4+ out of 10)
Diablo Canyon is a haunting and dark yet remarkably compelling novel by C. Flemish! Blending elements of Horror, Western, and Supernatural Fantasy, this novel will have you covering your eyes, clenching your fists, gritting your teeth, and stomping your feet in response to its emotionally-triggering and sometimes shocking content. This novel is actually broken up into two distinct time-frames following two very different and contrasting characters. The first scenario—the flashback, if you want to call it that—takes readers to the Wild West in 1874 Apple Valley. Readers follow a legendary and ruthless bandito (bandit) named Tiburcio “Tibu” Vasquez who begins his hero journey with the noble intention of avenging Esmeralda, his younger sister, and mother, who have been brutally s*xually assaulted, tortured, and murdered by a gang of evildoers. Tibu becomes a vigilante, taking justice into his own hands, brutalizing the perpetrators before killing them. However, Tibu's noble cause transforms and metamorphosizes into something much darker and sinister. He becomes the leaders of a violent gang of vigilantes and bandits who are arguably just as vicious as the villains they fight. They are viewed as rebels, revolutionaries, freedom fighters, and heroes to some while being criminals, outlaws, troublemakers, and terrorists to others. Perhaps the defining event in Tibu's life, beside the deaths of Esmeralda and his mother, is when he is forced to make a decision on how to deal with the treachery of his old friend—a man who saved his life from a bear: Jose. We get the perspectives of both Jose and Tibu. From this, we gather how truly cruel and monstrous Tibu can be. Jose knows that a very cruel fate could await him if he is caught. He knows that Tibu would want to set example of him for the rest of the bandits. Even his own best friend isn't exempt from his wrath. We flashforward to modern day Los Angeles, California. We follow Jack Morrison, a modern mirror to Jose—once noble, now deteriorating. Jack’s descent into alcoholism, neglect of his family, and loss of purpose makes him a cautionary tale. He is haunted not by literal demons, but by the hollow pursuit of fame and the ghosts of past wars and betrayals. Jack (and the reader) gradually uncover and experience the effects of a centuries-old ritualistic conspiracy involving the abominable monstrosity said to be lurking in Diablo Canyo known as Terraqual. Terraqual, Satan's once-beloved pet, who became too wild even for him, has warped time, cursed bloodlines, and tethered souls to the land in a cycle of torment and possession. As Jack delves deeper, he realizes that the golden cross, the haunted canyon, and his own unraveling life are all pieces of a dark spiritual machinery—one designed not merely to punish, but to preserve the creature’s dominion through sacrifice and silence. Jack must find the acolytes in the canyon who continually funnel lives and souls to the beast, men like the Sheriff, Wilms, and Father McVah, and undo the evil entities behind them like Be'elzebub and Asmod. Even more compellingly, he must find a way to rescue his daughter, Lisa, and numerous people (including children) who have gone missing for the last two centuries—people who exist in a living hell, unable to leave or to die. In probably the book's most heartwrenching and powerful scenes, Jack is forced to choose between ending the lives of numerous souls trapped in the form of children or to continue to let them suffer as "food" for Terraqual. Putting the children to rest may be one of the most uncomfortable and heartbreaking moments we've ever read in a book. And what's odd is that these aren't necessarily characters we've gotten to know. However, we still care about them. Why? Well, because they're innocent children who've suffered a lot and never got to enjoy life. Furthermore, they also remind us of children we know. In Jack's case, he no doubt sees Lisa in all of them. Among these children is a surprisingly compelling supporting character named Crystal, an elderly soul trapped in the body of a six-year-old (when she stopped aging like the other children). Her eyes are sewn shut. She fits the archetype of a seeress character. Despite her short time in the book, Crystal makes a lasting impact including providing thought-provoking dialogue, stirring the mystery of the canyon and its lore, and giving us one of the books most haunting and tearful motifs: a small wooden dove. In contrast to the many other objects and motifs in the book (like the golden cross), the small wooden dove just hits the hardest. To think that Crystal held onto this thing for years and years despite unspeakable torment really hits hard. Another nominee for best supporting character is Sandy, who develops a special relationship with Jack and also may share a relationship to Crystal... We could've done with a more satisfying ending with a bit more justice. Even more brutality, cruelty, and death occur. Arguably, some of that occurs way to late in the story. It's one thing to kill one of a main character's family members, it's another thing to absolutely take everything from him. Nothing is going to fill that hole. Not revenge, not payback. Nothing. We're not prudes about this stuff, but we did feel like the payoff didn't fit. We didn't quite feel like the pendulum of justice was balanced. What these villains did is beyond inhuman, beyond sadistic. These villains deserve to rot in hell for eternity and to have much worse things happen to them. This led to us feeling a little disappointed and empty at the end, which is strange because we really enjoyed about 75%+ of this book. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 95/100 (9.5 out of 10)
Are you in legal trouble? Are you looking to sue? Before you hire your next lawyer, read this book first! It's Never Been Easier to Hire the Wrong Attorney is an eye-opening law-centered book by David W. Craig that enlightens the public on the many schemes and scams that unscrupulous attorneys use to get your money. Who would've thought? Seriously. We tend to trust lawyers. Why? Well, because, similar to doctors, we assume that they put a lot of time and effort into gaining the qualifications necessary to enter the profession. Indeed, being a lawyer requires a license, but did you know that having a license to practice law is different from being board certified? That's right, some lawyers aren't even board certified! Yet we still tend to trust attorneys. Why? Because many of us simply lack the knowledge, experience, and know-how about this wild, wacky, crazy, and overly-complicated legal system that our genius lawmakers codified over the course of 200+ years. The truth of the matter is, no one attorney has all the answers. No one attorney is a specialist and expert in every area and every field. And guess what? Shockingly, there are some very predatory attorneys and legal firms out there who just want to capitalize on your person tragedy to make a buck. Unbelievable but true! David W. Craig is an experienced, award-winning attorney who has seen it all, much to his chagrin. He crafted this remarkable book to warn the good, vulnerable folks out there about these predatory practices. And, gosh, are they shocking! In this book, we learned about "runners." These are people who work under the table for unscrupulous attorneys to basically ambush unsuspecting people with biased, paid-for "recommendations" for legal representation. In other words, these guys will show up at a funeral for a victim of drunk driving or wrongful death, then say to their next of kin, "Hey, I knew your dead loved one. Here's a card for a lawyer I trust to get you compensation for their death." And, of course, this is all BS. They don't actually know you or your dead loved one. Furthermore, the person they're recommending is unscrupulous enough to pay someone to lie to and deceive you, what's to stop them from giving you shoddy service, scamming you out of the majority of your judgment, or worse? What more? Some of the worst lawyers even act as their own runners. They will put their licenses, careers, and reputations on the line for a big payday. Their also also other scammy lawyer tactics like buying out advertising space on their competitor's pages via Google Ads, so they appear at the top. Or they'll claim to be owned and operated in areas they aren't actually owned and operated in so that search engines like Google are more likely to recommend them. Some even use a wrong or misleading name, or they hide their name entirely. What a bunch of cheaters! Oh, and don't forget that just because an attorney appears in a commercial or is seen on a billboard, it doesn't make them credible or reputable, it just means they had deep enough pockets to pay for the advertising. Haven't you watched Breaking Bad or Better Call Saul? Saul was great at advertising. He wasn't really great at being a good person more than half the time. This book is great at encouraging and educating people on doing their due diligence and staying alert for these predatory practices. It's also great at educating people on how to find and choose an attorney to fit their unique situations and needs. For example, an attorney who specializes in patents isn't necessarily going to be good at handling a divorce or an accident case. She or he might not be knowledgeable at all about those things. Why hire them? As the book says, you wouldn't hire an eye-surgeon to perform life-altering open-heart surgery surgery on you. So, hire a reputable attorney that specializes in the area that you need them to specialize in. According to this book, the American Bar Association (ABA) accredits 18 different specialty certification programs. These programs are offered through eight different private organizations that the ABA recognizes as qualified to assess whether attorneys meet the standards for board certification in specialized areas of law. So, who is David W. Craig to provide this information? Well, Craig isn't just any other lawyer—he has won awards as one of the best attorneys in the State of Iowa. He is recognized as a top-tier personal injury attorney, particularly in cases involving serious truck accidents. With over 35 years of experience, Craig has handled a wide range of complex cases involving semis, commercial vehicles, and catastrophic injuries. He is also the host of the podcast After the Crash, where he educates listeners on the legal system, personal injury law, and how to protect themselves after life-altering accidents. His extensive legal background, courtroom experience, and dedication to consumer education make him a trusted voice in helping people choose the right attorney and avoid costly mistakes. Check out this book on Amazon!  Score: 91/100 (9.1 out of 10)
It's the worst news a mother can get: Your child is dead. Your son is missing in action or presumed dead—fallen in combat. This is similar to the heartbreaking news that around 2,500 families of US military personnel had to receive—the news that their son, daughter, husband, or wife wasn't coming home or wasn't coming home alive (or in one piece). Imagine your world crashing down, the earth shattering, your heart breaking. And imagine the additional pain of not knowing for sure if your loved one was dead or alive, having no body to confirm either way. That's part of the fascinating premise of Chameleon Chronicles: Book One- The Missing Lieutenant by Barbara Kruk. Abigail Baxter is the recipient of the tragic news that her lover, Major Michael Pearson, is missing in action and presumed dead, apparently having gone radio silent at the end of a special operation to rescue hostages in Kandahar, Afghanistan. Now, that whole premise really gets twisted, warped, and somewhat wasted early on when we learn that Major Michael Pearson isn't Major Michael Pearson at all, but a notorious con artist named Tony (full name: Anthony C. Perrilli). Tony is known by many aliases, but is known to intelligence and law enforcement agencies the world over as the London thief, one of the most elusive and audacious grifters alive—a master of disguise, deception, and emotional manipulation. His specialty isn’t just financial fraud or stolen identities; it’s people. He reads them, plays them, becomes what they need most—and then vanishes with everything he wants. In Abigail’s case, Tony targets more than her wealth. He exploits her vulnerability as a grieving widow still emotionally raw from her lover's tragic death. He weaves an elaborate persona—decorated military officer, single father, grieving soldier—all tailored to draw her in, build her trust, and ultimately, control her heart and home. How in the blue heck are you supposed to sympathize and side with this guy? This highlights one of the book's biggest dilemmas. It really seems like the book tries to get you to see Tony's point of view and to get behind him a little, almost like a charismatic, clever, and desperate bank robber in a heist movie. We learn that Tony is a supergenius who is not only able to read people but also understand advanced and complicated concepts on the fly. For example, he was tagged for impersonating a doctor, performing successful open-heart surgery with little to no formal training! So, you almost get the sense that he's supposed to be a bit like Michael Schofield from Prison Break or Walter White from Breaking Bad. Unfortunately, he doesn't quite have the likability or charisma of either of those two characters. In fact, he's incredibly unlikable. The book tries desperately to pain Tony as some kind of victim. We're reminded time and time again that his father was an alcoholic who abused and neglected Tony and his sister. Something that's repeated over and over again is that Tony's father never called him by his real name, instead he called him "Loser" and told that he wouldn't amount to anything. Yes, this is sad, but it's also very cliche. Essentially, his whole origin story hinges on the tired old trope of daddy issue. This leads to Tony wanting to prove himself and prove his dad wrong. We're told that his primary motivation for what he does is a fear of failure. Apparently, the author based him on an antagonist she encountered/experienced in real life. He is opposed by Commander Jonathan Meyers, the leader of a global Intelligence Crime Unit. Meyers is determined to not only apprehend this international criminal but also to save Abigail from his clutches. Meyers is portrayed as a seasoned and highly competent intelligence officer, known for his unblemished record in capturing elusive criminals. His involvement in the case adds a layer of tension and urgency to the narrative, as he races against time to outmaneuver the cunning conman and prevent further harm. The dynamic between Meyers and Perrilli serves as a central conflict in the story, highlighting themes of deception, justice, and the complexities of human behavior. There's a real hat-and-mouse feel to this dynamic, and you can't help but want Meyers to get his man. Now, while all of this sounds compelling and interesting, there's something about this book that just doesn't hit like we think it should. A lot of the tension and emotion are lost by knowing that Major Michael Pearson isn't even a real person, but a false identity created by Tony. So, when Abigail is heartbroken and mourning, we know she's heartborken and mourning over something and someone who isn't even real. That's messed up, and it really robs the reader of what could have been a lot of emotional investment. Another thing is that—in our experience—this book just isn't as exciting, thrilling, or action-packed as it should be. In fact, we felt it was rather flat and maybe even a bit boring, especially in the first half when we're pretty much just following Abigail as she's being emotionally torn apart over a total farce. While that sucks and all, the weight of this (again) is lost by already knowing what Tony is up to in the prologue. We aren't even spoiling much! It's pretty much spoiled for you by the time you get through the opening. Why do that? Why not hold your cards close to you and let this cat-and-mouse detective mystery actually be a cat-and-mouse detective mystery? Really, the only things we remember about Tony—the character around which this book and series seem based on—are his lingering daddy issues and genius intellect/savant status. There's a lot to work with here. A lot of substance and potential. But we really encourage the author to try maintaining some of the mystery, building more tension, and making Tony significantly more likable. As it stands now, there isn't much mystery, there isn't much tension, and we really, really, really didn't like Tony. Maybe you'll have a different experience. Check it out on Amazon!  Score: 94+/100 (9.4+ out of 10)
A Crown of Gilded Thread is an enchanting romantic fantasy and fairy tale retelling by Evangaline Pierce! It evokes the spirit, charm, and magic of classic fairy tales. It is enhanced by an invigorating and compelling coming-of-age story set against a turbulent political climate (full of court drama and clashing kingdoms) and mythical conflict. This is so much more than a retelling of the stories of the Miller's Daughter and Rumpelstiltskin—it has a soul of its own! We'd posted on social media that of the seven books we read at the beginning of this contest, this was the one that we enjoyed the most. Does that make it the best? Not necessarily. But there's something to be said about the importance of enjoying and being entertained by something. A Crown of Gilded Thread may not knock your socks off or wow you. However, what it does it does well. And that really starts with its protagonist, Gwen. Right off the bat, Gwen, the "miller's daughter", wins you over with her tenacity and will to survive despite the awful conditions she lives in. Gwen is not Supergirl or Wonder Woman. She isn't a Mary Sue either. Gwen is first presented to us initially as a peasant in a dreary medieval-fantasy society that is succumbing to famine due to the ongoing war between the Kingdom of Aurum (in which Gwen and her miller father live) and the Kingdom of Mystrim, which is ruled by the feared White Witch. The poverty, desperation, and misery that Gwen and her father live in is palpable. Hey, at least Cinderella lived in a nice house her evil stepmother owned and didn't ever consider having to eat the cat! Gwen doesn't even have that luxury. Something we also really loved about this book is that the lines between good and evil, right and wrong are blurred and not so clear. Specifically, you would think that the White Witch would be the cause of the famine and suffering like Jadis from The Chronicles of Narnia--some evil tyrant. However, the Kingdom of Aurum is just as much (if not more to blame) for the suffering of its people via its own actions. The King is cruel, manipulative, and power hungry. He comes to view Gwen as a disposable tool that can be used and discarded once her usefulness is gone. Speaking of which, Gwen's circumstances do change, but not necessarily for the better. Sparking this turbulent, compelling character journey, Gwen is sold out by her father to the royal family, who believe Gwen to be the last being in the kingdom with magic. She is told by the miller that her mother had magic and that she must have it too. Despite her innocence, she is apprehended like a prisoner—like the perpetrator of a heinous crime—by the King's men led by the duty-bound Captain Drake. She is brought to the castle where she is trapped in a room and is forced to spin straw into gold under threat of execution. The cruelty and greed of the King becomes apparent. This is worse than some sweatshops! Making matters worse, we soon learn that Gwen just so happens to be allergic to straw. So, how can she possibly accomplish this feat without magic or divine intervention? Well, intervention does come in the form of the mysterious Mr. Woolworth/Aurius, a magical being who seems to be able to appear to Gwen at will. Aurius takes a strand of her blonde hair and performs the magic of turning straw into gold for her. The reader is initially as grateful to him as Gwen is. However, there's also a sense of distrust, caution, and apprehension we have toward him. Can he be trusted? Why would he help Gwen? What does he really want? Before we're even given time to catch our breath, we're introduced to another of the book's fascinating dynamics: the other members of the royal court, namely Prince Ryland and Princess Avonlee. It immediately becomes clear that Ryland and Avonlee have some degree of power in the kingdom and that they aren't exactly on the same page as the King, who turns out to be their step-father. Ryland immediately starts talking about how he would take over the kingdom if the King abdicates and how he wants Gwen to himself, desiring to marry her in place of his step-dad. It also becomes clear that Captain Drake has a special and unique loyalty to Ryland, obeying him despite his somewhat treacherous, treasonous words and actions. It also become clear that Avonlee seems to have a special pull and influence on the King, expressing confidence that she can persuade him despite the difference in authority. So, essentially this is the McMahon family (or maybe the Kardashians). Dysfunctional. Powerful. Full of power plays, manipulation, and ulterior motives. Immensely intriguing. Meanwhile, we learn more about the other kingdom led by the White Witch, a royal ("Queen") in her own right. She is joined by Aurius, who we learn is both a prince (Prince Aurius) and a valued consultant to the Queen with heightened trust and privileges. Furthermore, we learn that he is uniquely a Goblin—rather, half-Goblin, half-human. We learn that Goblins are the only beings with the ability to turn straw into gold, and that Aurius is the very last of them due to a conflict and genocide that occurred long ago. We learn that Goblins are actually all male, which we found both odd and interesting. This makes reproductions kind of difficult, helping to explain why they never repopulated and why all the full-blooded ones are gone. Prince Aurius is far and away the more likable and charming of the two love interests vying for Gwen's affection in this love-triangle. Yes, Ryland is interesting in his own way, but it's usually the reader just wondering if he'll actually intervene if the King were to actually try to execute or punish Gwen for real or perceived failures. Ryland kind of comes across as a sleazeball. Meanwhile, there's a real tug-o-war with the character of Captain Drake, who seems loyal to Ryland (as stated before), as he seems to give Gwen a choice to escape. By the way, this scene actually shows how good of a person Gwen is since she stands up for the guards who just apprehended her, trying to convince Captain Drake to not sentence them to more lashes for her sake. We are told that Ryland is cursed and that the only way to break his curse is for him to marry a magical princess (i.e. Gwen). However, we are told by a competing party that Ryland really isn't cursed. We are told that Aurius/Mr. Woolworth is either the enigmatic and evil Rumpelstiltskin ("dark prince") or a descendant of his. So, the reader, like Gwen, is stuck between a rock and a hard place—trapped in the middle of a web of lies, half-truths, and competing narratives. This is a really intriguing fantasy novel that's sure to keep you on your toes! Check it out on Amazon! |
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